Where the Wild Things Are
by Toto2
Summary: Sorry guys, this one is not probably going to be finished (problems with my comp :( )
1. Fun Times

DISCLAIMER: All characters from "Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World" series are the property of John Landis, Telescene, Coote/Hayes, DirecTV, New Line Television, Space, Action Adventure Network, Goodman/Rosen Productions, and Richmel Productions  
  
General Comments: Since, for some reason, I am getting none of the S3 eps, this is going to have to take place after S2. I love the tension between M/R and the innocence between N/V, so it's mainly about that, with some extra carnage added.  
  
  
  
Where the Wild Things Are  
  
The jungle was a beautiful, if not sweltering place to live in. The exotic calls of the local "wildlife" could be inviting or warning to the band of explorers. However, there was one call not normal, and one that was driving the two men crazy.  
  
"Roxton, seriously, do we have to walk so damn fast? It'll still be there when we arrive," a dark haired woman complained. The hunter turned around and shook his head, hiding a smile. He passed a look to the red haired man at his side, who shrugged in response.  
  
"What do you think, Challenger? How much further to that village?" He turned and gave another smirk at the woman, looking at her up and down very openly. "I wouldn't want our darling Miss Krux to get any sores or aches within her legs. She'll be needed later." She shot him a look that would have withered anyone else.  
  
"One thing to be sure, Lord Roxton, you'll never get these legs around you," she hissed back, having caught the sexual innuendo. He made sure not to gape at the open comment she had just made. Usually their worst games of verbal fights were saved for when they traveled alone. Challenger, blessed saint that he was, ignored them, looking down at Malone's notes.  
  
"Ten miles if Malone's notes are accurate," he said, looking up at the sun. He looked back at the tense pair. "We could make camp or go on; it's your choice, you two." Marguerite looked at Roxton clashingly before moving to speak.  
  
"Let's continue onwards. Couldn't hurt to get there," Roxton interrupted. Challenger grinned and nodded, starting to walk off. Marguerite gaped at them.  
  
"Don't I get a vote in this? We should make camp!" she snapped at them as she broke into a jog. Roxton didn't even look back.  
  
"All in favour of moving on?" he asked aloud. Challenger and he raised their arms and continued on. Marguerite bit back a harsh reply and instead looked up at the trees that loomed over them. She noted at a strange marking on one, but dismissed it, walking on.  
  
  
  
  
  
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"Remind me to hand you over to the next Voodoo Queen wishing to make you her love slave," Marguerite snapped at Roxton as she sat down on a log to rest for a moment. She removed her left boot, knocking out several pebbles as she began to rub her foot in pain. He looked over at her from where he was cleaning his gun.  
  
"And I'll delightfully tell you to leave me there," he answered, setting the gun down. "Give me your foot."  
  
"So says the wolf to the sheep. I bloody well think not," Marguerite answered a look of defiance in her eyes. Roxton continued to look at her steadily, wearing her down until she finally gave her foot over. He inspected it lightly, and in a surprisingly friendly move, rubbed it gently. Marguerite won control over her breathing as he continued it, damning him for making it seem so intimate yet so innocent at the same time.  
  
"You'll be fine," she heard his voice say, and she looked away to where Challenger had gone. She struggled to maintain her choke hold on her boot as Roxton began to devilishly slip his one hand along her khaki covered leg. Instead of focusing on his hands, she studied his bent head intently. Since he had cut his hair, she found him looking outrageously handsome, but even more dangerous, like a wolf of some sort. Veronica had done it for him when he commented on feeling too warm, since he didn't trust the other woman with sharp objects anywhere near his person. Small patches of grey were now hidden, and there was no sign he was aging at all. Marguerite quickly turned her eyes, and slapped his hands away as she pulled on her boot.  
  
"Thanks, Roxton. Now I have to thoroughly wash," she commented, standing up. He did so as well, and she involuntarily swallowed hard, looking up at him slightly. He got that damnable glint in his eyes as he trailed his hand up her waist.  
  
"Do I get to watch?" he shot back, his head half bent towards hers. A sudden loud cough startled them both. Marguerite turned, an innocent look plastered on her face, while Roxton just looked on.  
  
"Ahem. If it is alright with you two, I'd like to get moving," said Challenger, passing them a canteen now filled. Roxton quickly latched it to his pack and couldn't help but smile as he saw a reddish tinge on his female comrade's face. He bent his head to her ear.  
  
"I'm going to take that as a yes when we get back home," he said, walking off. She bit her lip. Home, it sounded so simple. Not that is was her home really. It was Veronica's, and London was hers. Was it though? Home tended to be where she laid her gems at, as she had told Veronica once. But the plateau was becoming more than that. It was becoming her sanctuary, where she didn't have to keep her guard up all the time, a false persona all the time. True, around Roxton she kept her walls up, and she knew he did as well. She knew she should stop the games with him, with herself, but he seemed to enjoy them as much as she did, and in truth, it felt like a source of verbal, if harsh, foreplay for them. It led to moments of heated tension that always went incomplete, but she wasn't stupid. She knew if they ever got off the plateau, he would split in a moment, leaving her wanting. Or would he….  
  
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	2. The Attack

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Veronica quickly tied her hair back as she got ready to tighten the electric wires, her body slightly damp. Shaking her head lightly, she looked over at where Malone was checking out the T-Rex tracks warily. The damned reptile had trampled the wires before feeling the tremendous shock. Roaring with pain, it had gone off, looking for easier prey than the tree house's occupants. Now they had to fix the damn thing before Challenger got back and threw a fit over the wrecked wires.  
  
Turning her attention back to her task, she roughly tugged on the clippers, slicing through the wires. Hearing a twig snap behind her, she whirled, wheedling the clippers like a weapon. Malone threw up his hands instantly. "Easy," he stated simply, going around her to the post. He hammered it back down, suddenly sensing she wasn't working. Looking up, he noticed the tenseness in her. "What is it?" he whispered softly, standing up to look.  
  
"I'm not sure," the blonde answered, looking around. No, not raptors, she thought, hearing the sound of little feet running. Looking at Malone for a fleeting second, she turned her back to the fence, looking the other way. Malone suddenly grabbed her by the hand.  
  
"Compys!" he said harshly, yanking her behind him as they ran for the tree house. Suddenly, a small group of the tiny dinosaurs appeared at Ned's left, darting for him.  
  
"Ned!" Veronica screamed, scrambling back towards him as several of the vicious little beasts clawed into his leg. She grabbed onto him, tossing off the creatures that had dug themselves into them both. Malone's arm went around her bare waist as they darted inside of the elevator. The compass jumped onto the roof of the elevator, tails whipping as they struggled to reach their meals. The frame shook with the weight as it almost flew up, Malone grabbing Veronica down as the unaware dinosaurs were crushed on the roof. They both froze at the bloody sights of the squashed dinosaurs before Veronica grabbed Malone and pulled him to the safety of the tree house.  
  
"Damn," Malone swore aloud, pressing his hand to the open wound on his leg. Veronica quickly pulled a chair from the table and set it under him before he collapsed from the pain. Her blonde hair swept down as she stared at his temporarily lifeless body, the wound gushing. She pursed her lips together, and quickly carried him to his bedroom, grunting under his weight as he woke up, semi-consciously trying to help her. Malone's grunt of pain as she lifted his leg onto the bed told her one thing, and she gasped as she felt the warm, sticky blood on the other side as well. "I'll be alright, Veron…" he began even as his blue eyes fluttered down to look at his leg. "Whoa."  
  
"Ned, I need to get some supplies. Try to stay awake," she answered softly, quickly wrapping the wound with a bed sheet. He nodded, trying to smile at her to relieve her worry. She smiled back and quickly ran to Challenger's Lab, searching out the newest paste he had been concocting. Not being able to help herself, she looked over the edge, her light eyes searching and finding the small number of predators below. Swallowing hard, she ran back to Malone's room, and jumped as she saw him lying so still. She poked him lightly with her fingers, "Ned. Wake up." She was greeted with his incoherent murmurings. Shaking her head, Veronica quickly retied her hair back and set about divesting him of his clothes, looking away as she took off his pants.  
  
The wound took her breath away with a sharp hiss. *Oh God* she thought to herself. 


	3. On the Opposite End

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A gun shot rang through the jungle angrily, its booming echo sending birds into flocks. A screech was heard shortly afterwards, its echo raising the heads of several Triceratops.  
  
The raptors clicked their hind claws in unison as they surrounded the explorers. The female in charge, her long brown head held low as she made an extended position with her forearms, gave an ear piercing screech at the two men who were shooting at them. A male suddenly darted up behind them, his body getting ready to leap on the woman behind the one man. Whirling, Marguerite trained him with her pistol, and released a smoking shot. The raptor squealed angrily in retort, his shoulder bloody and smoking as well. When he saw her raise her gun, he backed off, snarling angrily.  
  
"We don't have enough ammo to keep missing, Marguerite," Roxton hissed at her tightly as he trained his rifle on the female. She looked at him incredulously despite her fear.  
  
"Then remember that before you miss that female again, oh wise one," she retorted. Challenger fired a killing shot at one of the smaller males that circled and glanced back at them.  
  
"That's enough out of you two!" he shouted, provoking the pack further. "We're going to have to make a break for that wooded clearing. The village isn't too far off," he ordered, nodding to the clearing directly to Roxton's right. "Go. NOW!" he roared. Roxton fired a clean shot to the raptor's jugular and pulled Marguerite ahead of him, taking up the rear as the raptors roared in anger. Swiftly, Marguerite almost dove into the clearing, stopping abruptly at the size of it. Challenger was able to swerve around her before Roxton hit her fully on the back. Looking up at him, she controlled any harsh words and darted up, looking at the advancing raptors.  
  
"Any other bright ideas, George?" she ventured, her breath harsh. Roxton reloaded swiftly and took aim. Suddenly, the raptors keened and vibrated backwards away from the clearing, heads lowered in submission. Roxton sent off a warning shot and they broke, screeching and keening as they raced back into the forest. Marguerite took off her hat to look at the disappearing dinosaurs. "What in God's name was that?" she asked aloud. Challenger was also bewildered and they both watched as Roxton looked around  
  
"Maybe they've heard from their friends we have someone that is a more dangerous predator then them," he said aloud, fully intending to tease her. She clicked her tongue.  
  
"Why, John, how nice of you to take the blame!" she exclaimed as she walked into the clearing. Roxton tensed his jaw and followed. Challenger looked around as he wondered at the scarceness of trees or brush in the clearing. Such scarcity signified acidity in the soil perhaps, or even… "GODDAMN IT!" The angry shout caught his attention immediately, and he sped up to catch up to the pair. Marguerite was sitting, looking undignified strangely, her pants cut at the knee. A scrape's bloody mark could be seen and Roxton knelt down to inspect. Wincing as he touched it, Marguerite looked at the thing that had tripped and scraped her. The now blood stained ivory bone was half uncovered and she grabbed it, wincing as she did so. Roxton took a look at it and tossed it angrily to the side, looking back at Marguerite.  
  
"Let's make camp. I don't think it would be for the better if we went out with her injured into the forest again," he told Challenger lowly, leaving Marguerite by herself as he stood and looked around. Challenger nodded, unpacking swiftly in a practiced manner. Roxton turned his attention to the mumbling woman who was cursing under her breath. He tried not to smile at it, and looked around at the darkening horizon.  
  
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Challenger watched as Marguerite pound her knee with the material she had ripped from her shirt arms. She could be resourceful when she wanted to, but she did so grudgingly. Shifting forward, he began to strike a pair of flints together. The flints suddenly clacked onto his forefinger, the forcing bruising him. *Damn,* he thought to himself as he started again, smiling as the flame sprouted lowly. He nodded to Roxton who fed the fire with the scarce twigs they had found. The night felt colder already and Marguerite crept closer, rubbing her arms as she did so.  
  
"How far do we have to go tomorrow?" Marguerite asked, looking at Challenger. He shrugged  
  
"Probably not very long, depending on if we run into any raptors," he answered, settling down for the night, his hat tucked down over his eyes. Soft snores could be heard from his place across from her  
  
"That really helped," Marguerite groaned, looking at the fire. As if suddenly realizing he was there, she looked over at Roxton. "What's wrong?" she asked, watching as he looked at moon. He looked back at her.  
  
"Nothing is the matter. I'm just not used to it being so silent, even with you here," he answered, smiling at her. Instead of being offended, Marguerite shrugged and looked around as well. She almost zoned out as she looked at the fire, and then grimaced as her knee began to ache. Roxton looked over at her quietly, looking at the covered wound. Despite the cleaning, it still looked like it hurt like hell, and he crept over beside her. "How bad is it?" he questioned, touching the bandage gently.  
  
"Your probing isn't making it any better," she told him, her hair draping over one shoulder. He chuckled without looking up and suddenly tugged on the bandage, drawing it tighter. Startled, Marguerite's reflexes acted out and she kicked him in the jaw. He flew back, laying on his back, eyes shut. Marguerite gasped with shock and crawled over to look at him. She nudged him gently. "Roxton!" Slowly, his eyes fluttered open.  
  
"If you wanted me to quit it, you could have asked," he commented in a dazed voice. She gritted her teeth, and moved to back off before she felt herself being yanked down on top of him. "Aren't I owed an apology?"  
  
"Fine. Sorry for what my reflexes did," she snapped, going to pull away. His grip tightened again and she felt his hand touch her cheek.  
  
"That's an apology?" he chuckled, looking up at her. She bit her lip anxiously.  
  
"Where'd I catch you?" she asked, voice slipping into one of the tones she used for him alone. He worked his jaw and she saw a faint dirt mark. Rubbing it off, she suddenly bent down and kissed the spot gently, feeling his cheek stubble graze her skin. She drew her lips up his jaw to his lips and kissed him gently. Roxton slipped his hand into her hair and the kiss intensified, causing Marguerite's legs to slip down his. There was one thing he did want to do for an apology…  
  
"Urrr…." Challenger said in his sleep, startling them both. The mood gone, Marguerite looked over at him and suddenly slipped off Roxton, going to where her blanket was. She watched as Roxton ground his teeth in frustration and smiled, trying hard not to laugh as she faded into sleep.  
  
*Damn that,* Roxton thought to himself, looking at Marguerite's turned back with a longing he had felt for almost three years. These moments of brief passion were leaving him wanting, and he knew he shouldn't think that way. Despite Marguerite's involvements in the past, he knew he frightened her as much as she made him wary.  
  
A sudden crack made him turn his head as he was knocked on the side of the head with a stout branch, the pain ringing in his now unconscious skull. 


	4. Cursed

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Marguerite was dreaming again. She was home in London, greeting her friends. The band struck up a song, but there was such low mumbling! She felt a hand upon her shoulder and instantly knew it was Roxton. Smiling, he clasped her for a waltz, but something seemed off about his body frame. His mouth suddenly bent low to her ear. "Mine…" he whispered hoarsely. Pulling back, she saw a man greeting her with eyes of ice.  
  
Her entire body bolted upward as she felt cool, damp sweat breaking out on her lower back. Her hand went to her flushed face, and she groaned dizzily at the rush she was beginning to feel. Eyes dilating to the darkness of the camp, she raised her cautious orbs to look about. Marguerite's eyes first flew to the motionless form of Roxton laying face up, and then to the huddled, older woman near the weak fire. She went for her gun, but found she couldn't lift it. She reached out to nudge Challenger, but all she received was a murmuring and swat on her hand for her trouble.  
  
"I don't think either one of them will wake very soon, my dear girl," the woman's dry voice sifted through the night. Marguerite whirled at her, and went to move. The woman's dark brown eyes fixated on her even through the dim light, and Marguerite found herself frozen.  
  
"What have you done to them? To me?" she questioned angrily, wishing to God Roxton was still semi-conscious. The woman gave a delighted chuckle, and suddenly pulled out a knife. She hobbled over to Marguerite and the knife flashed down, Marguerite's scream sounding through the air.  
  
"Whatever I wish!" she answered in a joyous tone, holding the lock of hair she had cut. Marguerite's hand went to her hair as she struggled to contain her fear. "Desecrate my ancestors', will you?"  
  
"What? No! We're just passing through this godforsaken land," Marguerite protested. The woman gave a shriek.  
  
"Liar! You and that man threw the bones of a dead one to the side, and you lay upon holy soil! You both cavorting about like rutting animals. And the red haired man, taking a bone of my people's ancestors. Oh, how you will pay," she roared, mumbling to herself. She began to hum to herself, her hands outspread over the dying fire. "Pay, Pay…" she began to chant. "Act like the animals, become the animals!" she suddenly yelled exuberantly, looking at the frozen Marguerite, her fingers sprinkling the other woman's lock of hair into a bowl, followed by a scrap of Challenger's tan jacket and a black lock of Roxton's hair. Marguerite watched with fright as the old woman suddenly grabbed Roxton and poured the hot liquid down his throat, forcing him to swallow it. She splashed it upon Challenger vigorously, and then began to hobble over to her again.  
  
"You get that pig slop away from me!" Marguerite snapped even as her hair was yanked back again. She felt the rich fluid flowing down her throat before she could think of rejecting it, and she swallowed involuntarily. The woman hovered over her, giggling madly when Marguerite's eyes began to cloud over, her head shaking as she struggled to gain her bearings. She could only feel the woman around her, her eyes constantly switching from a sharp image to a fuzzy image. She felt gnarled hands running through her hair almost mothering her. "What have you done to me?" she breathed out, breathing harsh. The woman gave a shrug, moving to where she had come in.  
  
"Think." Marguerite frowned at that from where she sat, and she felt harsh, clear images ringing into her head. Of the barbs she and Roxton had traded… So says the wolf to the sheep…we have someone that is a more dangerous predator then them… slowly the image switched to her and Roxton kissing on the ground, and Challenger tucking a piece of bone in his breast pocket. Dangers…fear…hunt… began ringing into her mind, as if the old woman was chanting again. Marguerite slowly felt her muscles becoming unfrozen as her mind cleared and her eyes sharpened. Suddenly, she felt every muscle move with a speed foreign to her. Her hands seemed to react without thought as they caught the older woman by the ankle. The woman cast a disgusted look down at her, before smiling with malice. "I think it would be wise if you ran," she whispered, suddenly moving off and fading into the night.  
  
Marguerite stood, her face a paler colour, lean frame moving to Challenger with quiet steps that disguised her naked fear. Slowly, she withdrew his pistol, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Her breath was light, so light it seemed her body barely breathed. "Sorry, George," she whispered. Something was telling her to move quickly, out of pure fear to what might have happened to them all. Slowly, she crept beside Roxton, where she could see the faint bruise were the old woman's staff had struck his head. She bent and kissed him lightly on his forehead. Stiffening, she began to creep out, boots crunching the soil lightly.  
  
Come to me…a voice whispered in her mind…Come to the forest…hunt…. 


	5. Pain & Kisses

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A cool hand pressed to his head, brushing back his hair. Groaning, Malone opened his light blue eyes to stare at the bent over Veronica, her low cut top drawing his attention more to her than any gentleman had better look at a woman. Coughing, she gave him a splitting look before smiling at him. "How are you feeling?" she asks, wringing out a rag to touch it to his head. He grunted, trying to sit up.  
  
"Like I usually do after a successful unconscious spell," he said, shame in his voice. Veronica sighed. She knew Malone tried valiantly to be what he wasn't, and she cared deeply for the person he really was. But he had been beaten down to many times by Marguerite for not being brave enough, and it had taken its toll.  
  
"You were very brave and very foolish to drag behind when the compys attacked, Ned," she commented. She heard his dismal groan in answer as he shifted in the cot she had set up before the fireside. Malone cast a look down at his leg, and almost jumped, realizing he was naked, and realizing who had done so. Veronica blushed lightly at the stunned look on his face. "Come on now, I've seen you naked before," she said, voice a bit shaky. Ned shrugged, relaxing slightly.  
  
"True. Where are those lizards now?" he asked. Veronica shushed him, and they both listened as they heard the sound of the reptiles fighting at the base of the tree. He groaned again and fell back against the cot. "This is not going to go well," he pointed out to the blonde, looking at her. She nodded, standing up to bring the boiling pot of water off the fire. Malone continued to watch her carefully, as if trying to see something.  
  
"What?" she demanded suddenly out of the blue, and Malone quickly downcast his eyes to avoid her feeling his staring.  
  
"Nothing. Just wondering how the others are doing," he lied, looking out at the rising sun. Veronica hid a smile, taming her blush before it could be seen. Her attraction to him hadn't diminished over the months they had remained platonic friends, and she knew he was still attracted to her. She was afraid to fall for him though, because there would come a time when he would leave the plateau, and her. For she couldn't leave her home, and they all knew that. The splashing of the hot water against her skin made her yelp with the sudden pain and she quickly poured cooler water over it. "What's wrong?" Malone called over to her, having seen her spill the hot water.  
  
"It's nothing, I just got the water on my hand," she answered, turning around. She looked at the faint burn mark on her palm. She quickly made the herbal tea and brought it over to Malone, the scent making even her sleepy. She offered him a cup, watching like a hawk as he drank it in small amounts. He smiled at her and offered her the cup, and she took a sip, watching as he began to blink his eyes repeatedly. As she went to stand, he suddenly grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back down beside him. She tried to look stern, but couldn't help a smile from creeping onto her tanned features. "What are you doing?" she asked, voice very low. Malone suddenly brought her head down to his and he kissed gently. Veronica kept her smile into the kiss and returned it, pulling back when he did.  
  
"Getting something to keep the nightmares away," he answered softly, placing his head back down on the pillow, drifting off to sleep. Veronica smiled again and brushed her lips against his again before getting up to put away the cup.  
  
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	6. The Pack

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A raptor squeal greeted the two men as they woke in unison, groaning at the uncomfortable positions they had spent the night in. "Bloody hell, I need a stiff drink," Roxton swore aloud, his head pounding, temples throbbing. Challenger woke with a groan as well, rubbing his now stiff neck with a vengeance. Without turning to look, Roxton began to speak, "Is her Highness awake?"  
  
"Not only is she awake…she's gone," Challenger said, disbelief in his voice. "I wonder why I have this headache…could be the acidity of the soil is sending electro waves to…"  
  
"Challenger, I can really care less. She's gone," Roxton snapped, pulling on his rifle and jacket. Challenger suddenly threw something at the other man.  
  
"Maybe she got sick of you finally," he retorted with an acidic voice. Roxton looked at him incredulously. Challenger shook his head in a rapid motion. "What on earth…my pistol's missing," he commented as if nothing had happened.  
  
"Look." The sudden sharpness to Roxton's voice made challenger look about and he saw foot print of a female boot. "She went back to the forest. Damn." Challenger quickly fell in step next to the younger man, feeling a drive to compete with him. They kept trading places as they began to reach the edge of the plains, following the foot tracks. Screeches amassed the air, and then suddenly went silent as if felled by the swoop of an axe.  
  
"Odd," Challenger commented. Roxton looked over at him. "There must be something acidic in the soil we just passed through. The forest seemed to be steady, yet nothing but a dead tree grows in that area." Roxton shrugged.  
  
"Could be anything, desertification, a grave yard…anything really." Challenger gave a nod to Roxton's thoughts, but seethed. Did the other think he was smarter than him; that he hadn't thought of that? Oh, he was tempting him to shoot him then and there.  
  
Roxton did not remain oblivious to the older man's tension and external anger, but refused to comment on it, kneeling to inspect the footprints. Suddenly, a sharp scent was brought to him. Baffled by this, he took a hesitant sniff, and it came again. Marguerite's scent, his brain told him. He gave a puzzled look, unable to comprehend how he could tell. The tracks were hours old, and led into the denser vegetation. Suddenly, his whole body began to react, his blood boiling inside him. She had been here; the wind whispered it to him through his scent. Challenger was looking about like a damnable fool, inspecting the bent and snapped brush to the side. Silly old man, did he really think he could find her? When she belonged to him? Oh God what was he thinking?  
  
"There's some more tracks over here," Challenger called out from the side, stepping to the side as Roxton came over to inspect. He seemed to be scenting the area.  
  
"No, she went the other way. She's trying to get us to go that way," he answered almost to himself. Half inspecting Challenger to back down, he turned away his eyes, looking at the light footprints. The sudden sound of Challenger's fist connecting with Roxton's jaw cracked into the air with a fury, and the darker haired man stumbled back. Challenger was glaring at him  
  
"Do you think I'm stupid? Who is the leader here, young one?" Challenger demanded, rage in his light coloured eyes. Roxton began to reason with him until he felt something boiling inside of him.  
  
"You're too old to be of any use! If it wasn't for their pity of you, I would have killed you off long ago!" Roxton answered, his voice deadly. Challenger gave an incoherent shout of anger, and Roxton felt something that suspiciously sounded like a growl rise in his throat. He braced himself as Challenger threw himself at him, his fist connecting with Challenger's jaw brutally. The man bellowed and kicked out at Roxton's knees, which the younger man avoided and made a swift move of his elbow to the older man's solar plexus. Challenger fell hard, breath gone as Roxton drew his knife. He stopped any further assault, staring at the knife as if it was a new toy. "No," he whispered hoarsely, putting the knife in his back pouch. The scent came again to him and he sprint off to the one path, leaving Challenger alone.  
  
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Challenger groaned, his mind hazy as he struggled to gain his breath again. He rose with a struggle, his jaw and head aching in unison, the throbbing burning into him. He began to work his jaw from side to side, the pain of the blows evident. It was then that he felt the structure of his jaw. It felt more flexible, and as he opened his mouth, he found he could stretch it further than before. He lifted his hand to his mouth in wonder, suddenly feeling a sharp edge to his canines that pierced the flesh of his fingers.  
  
"What on earth…" he began before hearing a raptor screech and he quickly jogged out of the clearing.  
  
  
  
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Roxton was traveling fast, very fast. Not fast enough, Marguerite thought with a grin unlike her. Her eyes followed him as he passed underneath the tree she had climbed, her hands gripping the branch lightly, as if there was no fear of her falling. Her eyes had sharpened to an extraordinary blue shade, and she could see the features of his face even from her vantage point 30 feet up, her hair floating around her head loosely. He stopped, and she watched with interest, as he appeared to scent her. Scent her? Now, that was amusing to see the legendary hunter and tracker do. She lay out full on the branch to stare at him with interest that matched that of a wolf with a deer. She tapped the branch lightly, and he looked around sharply, ceasing any noise from her. He moved on, his steps audible to her until he left the small area. Marguerite slowly stood up and without thought began to shimmy down the tree, her nails dragging lightly into the bark and supporting her. She reached the bottom with a sigh of relief and looked down at her nails curiously. Ordinarily, her nails would have ripped out with the harshness of the bark of the tree, not remain relatively unsoiled and strong as they looked now. *This is a curse? * She thought with a grin, turning around, a laugh on her lips.  
  
She was shoved back into the tree with a harsh sound and she stared at the man with shock. "What are you doing?" she demanded.  
  
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*Damn that woman! * Roxton raged internally, following her tracks to where they circled back to the clearing. He wanted to…what? Roar? Howl? He didn't know. All he knew that he wanted to find her, and he could sense that she was close. He paused at the small creek he had passed, and bent to scoop up some water to drink, but lurched back in shock. His breath began to come in heavy pants as he looked at his reflection. *No, not again * he thought, reminded of his time as a vampire fledgling, but then paused. His eyes were a startling blue colour, brighter than his own normal shade and he ran his hand over the sharp textures of his teeth. He tried to reason with himself, but couldn't help but look. He was changing into something, and that something was what Marguerite was fleeing from.  
  
Groaning out loud, he laid back, his hat tucked over his eyes as he struggled to think about what was happening. It was then he heard whispers of movement in the ground, like heavy footsteps falling on hollow metal floors. Two scents reached him; one of the woman he searched for…and the other. A tight growl burned into his throat and he stood angrily, darting off 


	7. Control

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"Challenger, what the hell do you think you are doing?" Marguerite gasped around the chokehold he had on her throat. Challenger was staring at her, not the man she knew and cared for like a father or brother. His hat was gone, his hair wild and a shock of red hair mixed with leaves and brush. But it was his eyes, a blazing emerald green that was cold. His grip tightened.  
  
"Make a choice, female!" he snapped out. Marguerite tried to gain control but her mind was being taken over.  
  
"You disgust me!" her other side croaked at him as she began to black out. She suddenly felt him kissing her, and she struggled not to gag. Challenger was like a father to her, and she had absolutely no other feelings for him. She bit into his lip, drawing blood. He snarled, backing off and looked at her, his grip tightening again. Marguerite began to black out again, not being able to breathe, astonished at the strength in the older man's hands.  
  
Suddenly, the squeezing was gone, and she was thrown to the ground, coughing hard. She raised dazed eyes to the sound of Roxton yelling at the man. The impact of them crashing into one another was loud and painful sounding; Marguerite's eyes watching with an unwanted fixation. Challenger drove Roxton into a nearby tree face first, and Marguerite whimpered as she heard Roxton's groan of pain. He whirled and blocked a punch made by challenger, and that was the first glimpse Marguerite gained of his face in a long time. Roxton's eyes were normal, but he looked like he was struggling with something.  
  
Challenger threw a kick into Roxton's jaw as he battered the normally stronger man with bruising fists. Marguerite screamed as she saw Challenger whip out Roxton's dagger and slash him hard. A light ribbon of red welted on Roxton's side as he flew back, sputtering as his body screamed in protest.  
  
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Roxton could feel Challenger's blow like they were of a much stronger man, and he struggled to keep a hold of himself. Whatever was infecting him, he couldn't let it through. Challenger's sharp, pointed boot slammed into his stomach with a dazing force, and it was repeated as Roxton tried in vain to prevent the blows. He rolled to his side, facing away from Challenger, and heard him drawing the knife again. He looked over and saw Marguerite, eyes locking with hers for a long moment. He saw the bruises on her neck, and his control fled him like a bird fleeing a hawk.  
  
His blood felt like it was boiling and he gave a growl. He heard Challenger pause uncertainly and whirled, his eyes an angry sapphire blue. He growled again, his control gone now completely. He grabbed the man's descending fist, and squeezed it, feeling the knucklebones close to the breaking point. Challenger howled with pain and pulled back, still holding the dagger. Roxton leapt at him, his sheer weight and size coupled with an agility kept sharp by fighting raptors bowling the older man over. "Come on," he snarled at him, the knife forgotten as challenger struggled to regain his dominance. Roxton threw a wild punch and felt Challenger's fist connect with his back. He growled with pain and this time his fist connected with Challenger's jaw with such a force that it sent the man whirling back, his head slamming into the hardwood tree.  
  
Roxton panted hard, his body filled with adrenaline. By the gods, he had never felt so…powerful or in control, not even when he was a vampire or becoming like an animal for those short spans of time. He nudged the unconscious man with his foot and grinned with satisfaction. He turned his eyes to look at Marguerite behind him, but his senses felt different. She wasn't there. His eyes followed her foot tracks. "Marguerite…where are you?" he called, but there was a strong note in his voice. The hunt was on… 


	8. Musings

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Malone jerked awake once again, and instantly regretted it when blood rushed into his head, dizzying him. The room swam for a few brief moments, and he looked around anxiously as he focused on Veronica's still form. *That can't be comfortable* he thought as he looked at her. She was curled into a ball on one of the tree branch chairs he and Roxton had patented, a blanket barely covering her legs, and her one arm touched the bed lightly. Malone turned his eyes away from her and looked at his bandaged leg. The pressing of the leaves against his wound stopped the blood flow, yet it didn't stop the throbbing in both his head and the muscles around it. He touched the swollen flesh experimentally and instantly regretted it when the pain shot down his entire leg. Cursing softly, he quickly adjusted the blanket about himself and propped the pillows up to allow him to sit upright. He felt weak, as if even doing something simple would exhaust him. Some of the jungle plants Veronica  
used to dull pain tended to do that to them all, yet it usually took away the pain.  
  
Sighing, he enjoyed the silence of the tree house for a few minutes, watching the clear sky with a relaxed expression. Veronica murmured something softly, disturbing the silence for a minute. He looked over at her, and he noticed her hand clutching the blanket in a death grip. She continued to whisper softly, her dreams obviously troubling her quiet a minute. Malone pushed himself to his side, and he looked at the troubled woman's face. Her eyes fluttered rapidly. His ears strained to catch her words, and he began to hear her soft comments. "Don't," she whispered softly, her hand that was placed on the bed outstretched as if searching for something. Malone raised his own hand, touching hers lightly and her fingers entwined with his as if in need. "Don't leave me too, Ned..." she continued, shuddering lightly. Malone looked at her silently, and noticed that the shuddering must have meant she was crying in her dream. He heard her whisper a begging note, and he stood up slowly,  
balancing on one leg delicately. He picked her up, feeling her relax as he put her on the bed. Slowly and cautiously, he put himself behind her, and she instinctively turned over, clutching at him.  
  
Malone was surprised by these unconscious actions of need she was showing, things she would never do when the light of day shone on her. He pulled his head back, staring down at her as she slept on with exhaustion wiped off her face. The pain that had hardened her to be wary of all them, even after three years, was still there, but it had softened. Malone found himself staring down at her as if in silent wonder. So the action she had shown him of keeping him a friend was an act, he mused, swallowing hard. Her face, softened and free from her protective mask, was so innocent and trusting. He wondered if this was what Roxton had talked about to him, only with Roxton, he had to peel off every layer of Marguerite's thick shell.  
  
But there is no comparing Marguerite with Veronica, or vice versa for both of us, Malone thought. They were different, but both similar at the same time. Marguerite and Veronica were both untrusting, but Veronica's had not come from years of being hunted like Marguerite, but from years alone. Veronica had only one mask of indifference and distrust, while Marguerite had multiple layers, like a hardened onion. Malone tried not to laugh at that thought, because at first Marguerite had been like a bad...well, vegetable. Bitter and hard, simple as that, but what you saw was definitely something totally different from the real woman. Malone did not try to fathom Roxton's attraction to her, but all of them knew it was a matter of time before Roxton wore her down or Marguerite pushed him too far.  
  
Malone sighed softly, brushing a finger along Veronica's jaw line tenderly. He knew he was no better than any of them. He hid his feelings for the blonde "untamed beauty", as Roxton had humorously put it, and he had almost lost her several times. Once to a native tribal king, once to a native who claimed to be her destiny, and lately, as the tale came from Marguerite, a man who had basically seduced her into loving him. Malone felt his heart tense up at that, because it was showing it wouldn't be long before both of them got tired of waiting and moved on. He was determined not to leave her, and he sensed the rest of the explorers worried about her.  
  
Malone continued to trace the contours of the blonde's face, touching her nose lightly. More and more ever day, he found himself forgetting what Gladys looked like, of the past women in his life. He knew he was falling in love with Veronica, and he knew she was sharing similar emotions, but was frightened even more than he was. She had spent her entire life alone, and thought that was her fate, and he had spent his entire life trying to be a different man, one like Roxton even. But he wasn't; he was a storyteller, who had been taunted throughout his life for his seemingly meaningless life. But Veronica had given it a meaning, and he would forever be wondering how she did it. Although she tended to be the most stubborn woman alive, he had had the bruises from her knockout punches to prove it, she was also perhaps the most caring. She was willing to take strangers into her home, something that ended up with five friendships, now down to four. Three years had changed them all,  
but their pasts still remained like a clear reminder.  
  
Malone realized he had been staring down at her as he thought about this, and he snapped out of his musing. He also realized that he was naked underneath the blanket, and Veronica wore very little. This was not the best situation to be in for both of them. Suppose...suppose what? His brain demanded. Suppose the group arrives and finds us in bed together, me naked, her very close to it. But all of them knew he wouldn't take advantage of her like that, whatever the circumstances. Maybe there would come a time for them, but it wasn't now. Malone quietly bent his head down and kissed her gently, not enough to disturb the usually light sleeper. He pulled the blanket tightly about his hips, and rolled her over. Pulling her back against his chest, he rested a protective arm around her, allowing their combined warmth to lull him to sleep. The pain in his leg was forgotten as Veronica smiled in her sleep, her own hand going to lie over his, their fingers entwining.  
  
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	9. Pain

******************************************** Chapter 9: Interlude of Pain  
  
Marguerite's dark hair hung in ropy strands as she whirled about, her breath coming hard. Part of her mind still functioned in a human sense as her bright eyes looked about. *Damn it, Marguerite, you said you'd give anything for him to chase after you the way you wanted,* she thought to herself, bursting out with a giggle before she could stop herself. The sudden harsh sound silenced the birds and reptiles in the woods, the higher notes erupting into the still air. Hiccupping slightly, she moved to the brush, her body urging her. *Climb* a voice said within her mind, and she followed the urge, heaving herself up onto a low branch. As her foot left the ground, high pitched squeals and growls came from behind the brush, the small compys darting out. Several leapt upon a smaller compy that smelt of blood; the sound of teeth meeting bone and flesh filled the air. Marguerite felt her stomach growl slightly, and glanced down. The sight of the blood and flesh became too much for her, and she leapt down. The green lizards clicked their claws in a vicious move, darting at her. Marguerite's human personality was lost as a growl raised itself from her throat, and the dinosaurs paused in their attack, confused. Here was a human, a source of food.threatening them! Marguerite's hand lashed out at a bolder compy that lunged at her, her fingers ripping into its neck. The easily startled pack shrieked in unison, darting off as if they were being chased by a raptor. Marguerite stared with a sick fascination at the exposed bone and muscle that her nails had ripped into. Her fingers closed around the neck as she held it close to her, pulling her freshly bloodied fingers free from the grip of the stiffening muscle in the tiny creature's neck. Licking her lips, Marguerite took her two fingers into her mouth and tasted the blood before she could stop herself. Such rapture, such ecstasy exploded into her taste buds and she released a muffled groan at the taste. Greedily, she set into the muscle and blood before she could stop herself, the flesh slipping through her throat. When the bloodlust ended and she was able to regain her senses, there was only a bare, mutilated carcass, void of flesh and bone dry so to speak. "What is wrong with me." Marguerite whispered hoarsely, throwing the carcass down with disgust. Her eyes flashed around the small area, her eyes wide like a deer scenting a hunter. Her vision was fast becoming tunneled, and her color discrimination was leaving to only shades of black, red, blue, and white. Groaning, she slumped against the tree as her pain became very real to every fiber within her being, vibrating into her mind and lacing it with tendrils of denial. Her long throat lifted as she gave a long scream in pain, pain for the growing loss of her humanity and sense of self. Never, despite years of neglect, abuse, and infliction had she felt anything like this. Such pain. **************************************************************************** **************************************************************************** ***********  
  
Roxton's head swung up at the sound that vibrated through the trees into his mind, and he growled softly. There she was.he shook his dark head rapidly, trying to get past the thoughts and emotions that were clouding him. He had experienced such a sensation when he had been turning into a wild beast during a faintly remembered time. His eyes focused repeatedly upon a single leaf as he began to see different things. Fascinated, he brought it closer to his face, the sound of the stem breaking like a drum in his ears. Fingers tracing over the pattern, he looked upon the leaf like a child would his first toy. The patterns, the endless swirls, it was magnificent! His ears picked up the sound of a twig snapping, and his head whipped to that direction. There was nothing. Growling, he returned to look at the leaf silently. When the beauty of the patterns began to fade, he tossed it to the side and stood once again. His sharp blue eyes began to pick apart the foliage quickly, trying to scan past every possible pathway. Yet, the constant whirling of his eyes began to sicken him even after he halted his activities. Slowly, knee by knee, he fell to the ground and onto his back, his face to the sky. The structure of the bones on his face tried to shift, the sound of bone meeting bone grinding into the air. The pain was overwhelming, burning into him like a brand. As if giving up, the magic that controlled him ceased, and his eyes stopped dilating and contracting, leaving him with a vision of black and white. Groaning softly once again, his head lowered to the side, his breath coming hard and short. "Marguerite." he whispered as he began to fade back out  
  
Note: AHH! I am So Sorry Everyone For Not Posting This Since.Like April! I Had Such a Writer's Block! But How Do I Make Up For This? An Utterly Boring, Short Chapter! *Argh* But I Do Have A Present For You All. In The Coming Chapters, Malone Gets His Girl! (But they're already in a bed, nothing new there!) and Roxton and Marguerite Pair Up to obey the Whims of A Mad Woman (Nothing NC-17 in that regard.but for those two....mwhahaha) R&R Peeps, and THANK YOU for these great Reviews!!! 


	10. Mates

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The pain was over. Those overwhelming sensations left a soft, pleasurable throb through her veins much similar to the taking of opium. Marguerite could feel the throbbing subside just minimally, just enough to allow her to move freely. There was that insistent pull to go back that carcass of the compy, to taste the salty blood and let it slide down her throat like the finest wine. To render the flesh to useless scraps and swallow the soft material like caviar. Her mind was not so completely gone that she could not make comparisons to her life as a woman with a full intact common sense. She could still smell the copper scent upon her clothes; the dinosaur's blood and her own intermixed with her sweat and the dirt that she had laid upon not an hour ago.  
  
Why was she drawn to this darkness? Why?  
  
She licked her full lower lip, tasting that tangy flavour that still lingered, reddening her lips to full rouge. Marguerite breathed deeply as she stood still. There it was.cologne, a spicy aroma that was so.him. There was an added musk to it, one that made her body yearn to find him. However, her mind felt like it was being split in two by the incessant sound of a call, much like a dog to a whistle. Groaning softly, she began to move again, rotating her head and neck to the sound of a satisfying crunch. The earth felt different, even under her leather boots. It felt like the very soil was throbbing like a beating pulse beneath a thin layer of skin, and it felt wonderful. The urge to run came again as she propelled herself forward, feeling the wind rip through her torn and bloodied clothing as she ran. Without a thought to it, her feet moved over the roots of the trees, over the uneven ground without a faltering step. It was as if she could feel everything before it would happen. An incredible sensation it was.  
  
Like all animals, Marguerite found herself racing towards a faint ozone scent, one that practically sung of life into her feral mind. The animals in her way, predator or prey, eyed her warily before they caught that faint odour about her that sent them into a confused panic, the odour of a human with madness to it. The prey animals raced off, while the predators warily backed up, soft growls and hisses filling the air. Whatever this female creature was they wanted no part of it.  
  
Marguerite merely snarled in return as she stripped her over-jacket and boots off, the arms of her shirt already torn. The water lapped at her toes as it rippled because of the falling of dirt into its otherwise pristine surface. Marguerite's head snapped up from her crouched position, her eyes watching the shrubs that guarded the one side from offending eyes. She took in a deep breath again, exhaling slowly when her new senses told her nothing. Slowly, she bent her head back down, concentrating on removing the offending boots.  
  
There was a sickening crunch as a body met hers at full speed, pinning her down expertly. She growled deep in her throat, nails raking out to scratch at the face near hers. Her legs shoved at the body, the force behind her kicks one of rage and desperation. At least.the theory of shoving this body off was good.  
  
The effect of her hands being slammed down above her head was as if she had been tranquilized. The effect of the hardened body against hers made her tremble. Her entire body went soft and yielding, submissive although the mind protested this easy obedience to the feel of a stronger body against her own. Marguerite breathed heavily through her mouth, grimacing as a mouth descended to taste the blood she had not wiped off from her mouth. She could feel the soft flicking of a tongue upon them, sucking at the stained lips to take in the remnants of the blood.  
  
A deep growl issued from her captor as his hands shifted, seeming to force her wrists deep into the soil. The force of it was enough to make her flinch again at the pain as she reacted the only way a proper lady should. Her teeth caught his lower lip and bit down hard, tasting his blood in her mouth to replace the salty but bitter taste of the reptiles with a different, warmer tangy flavour. A hand caught her by her chin, shoving her chin up to reveal her neck. A primitive instinct deep within her began to command her to struggle as the hold tightened. It was too perfect of a position for Marguerite's slim neck to be broken.  
  
That was hardly the intention it would seem as the hand softened again, and the soft mouth kissed her on the slightly ticklish spot of her neck. Teeth grated against her skin, and Marguerite's more female side responded to this seductive treatment by moving into the hand. The creature she was becoming chided at her for responding to this soft treatment, this seduction, and it shoved at her to act. Marguerite dug her nails into the hand that still held her wrists, feeling the teeth at her neck suddenly bite sharply enough to injure, but not kill. Once again, she felt her entire begin go submissive as her hands went into his hair, tugging his mouth up to claim it with her mouth.  
  
Her tongue taste his blood still upon his lips, flicking it deep into her throat as she felt the touch soften as her hands were released to allow him to shove the buttons of her clothing apart. A soft growl was issued as she raked her teeth over his tongue, feeling his hands tighten about her waist suddenly, pulling her into him as she gyrated her hips in their primitive rhythm that told what she wanted at the moment. Him.  
  
Author's note: MWHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I finally submitted and wrote this down finally. Sorry if it isn't that good, and I AM Sorry that I can't go fully into it, but this is the R-rated section, people!!! Thank you for all of the great reviews!!! 


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